


Learning Curve

by capncrystal



Category: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Canon-Typical Homophobia, Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Luvander is a prize plum, M/M, Multi, Other, Rating may go up, awkward gay darlings, everyone is a history major, raphael is a hot mess, unfinished work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9665309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capncrystal/pseuds/capncrystal
Summary: (ON HIATUS) The airmen and dragons are students enrolled in a special history program. The college AU nobody asked for (but everyone wants)





	1. Chapter 1

Raphael wondered, not for the last time, if he should even be allowed to own an ipod. All it ever brought him was humiliation and a risk of losing his job.

He wasn’t sure what was worse; the times when Ivory caught him dancing on the job, or the times when Luvander did. See, Luvander would tease him horribly and make Raphael promise all kinds of outrageous favors to keep his misbehavior a secret from the very stern, absolutely terrifying head librarian who was already one thousand percent fed up with undergrad shenanigans while on the clock, but at least Luv tended to forget most of those promises after a few hours unless it was convenient, like for example if he was too lazy to go get himself a coffee while studying. Ivory, on the other hand, demanded nothing- and Raphael could think of a few things he wouldn’t mind doing to buy Ivory’s silence, but heaven help him, that didn’t seem fucking likely to ever happen. No, Ivory would just creep up behind him and pluck the headphones right off his head, sending Raphael into a careening panic every time because the bastion fucking headphones disabled whatever innate proximity alarms he’d had. The last time it happened, he’d actually been shaking his butt and had managed to grind his hips back into Ivory and both of them had sprang apart like startled cats, and Ivory had hissed at him to pay fucking attention before running off.

Basically, Raphael sort of wanted to die from embarrassment. He didn’t stop listening to his ipod, though. The siren call of Meghan Trainor was just too strong.

He spent his entire coffee date the following day with Luvander with his head in his arms on the table, softly wailing about how unfair the universe was. Any universe with horrible, vampiric librarians who frowned on bootylicious pop music and disgustingly attractive blondes was not worth existing in and deserved correction. Luv, for his part, smirked at the right places (Raphael assumed, since he was too busy hiding his face to actually look up), sipped the iced coffee he’d blackmailed Raphael into buying for him, and patted Raphael’s shoulders with a mixture of comfort and condescending amusement.

“I’d feel worse for you, Raphy-pants,” he grinned, “If you were even a fraction less responsible for your own situation. You could, for example, stop wearing your headphones at work. Which, I might remind you, is expressly against the rules.”

“The last time I tried going without, I ended up reading the books instead of reshelving them.” Raphael’s voice was both muffled and miserable.

“Okay, I know you, so that is absolutely fair. However, there’s the other matter to consider. Like. Why not simply talk to your handsome blond.”

Raphael raised his head and gave Luvander a wan smile. “I am talking to my handsome blond,” he tried. Luvander snorted and waved him off, but he could never quite keep a straight face while being abjectly flattered.

“Please. You could never support me on a librarian’s salary.” Luvander leaned back and looked haughty. It wasn’t easy; Luvander was a beanpole of a man, and even dressed to kill like he always was, he looked slightly comical. When Raphael was honest with himself, he could admit that he was _extremely_ jealous of Luvander’s looks. The man had legs that went on for days and zero fucking fat anywhere on his body, he looked like a model even if only below the neck. Even above, Raphael thought, he was better than average but he’d learned not to press the issue or talk about modeling at all or Luv would go on for hours about the fashion shows he watched religiously and while Raphael could appreciate a body in underwear, he tended to lose focus after the first fourty minutes or so. Luvander dressed like the most fabulous fucking cindy on campus, skinny jeans hugging him in the most filthy indecent places and enhancing those distractingly long legs under blazers and scarves cleverly designed to attract attention to all the right places. Unfortunately, there was some sort of truth to his snide self-assessment of a few centimeters being the difference between beauty and awkwardness, and so here he was at college studying fashion and history instead of walking on a runway (despite his amused assertions that there was more to it than a few centimeters, which Raphael refused to hear).

It was maddening, sometimes, to see him look so casually good and know he was single. Other times it was comforting- if Luvander couldn’t snag his boy, looking like he did, maybe Raphael wasn’t such a failure after all. That comfort lasted until he looked in a mirror at flyaway curls, baggy clothes disguising more chub than he was entirely comfortable with, and the awful shape to his own nose. Raphael could look in a mirror in the best mood and come away from it ready to set everything on fire.

Most people, when meeting Raphael and Luvander together, assumed that they’d been best friends for years. The truth of it was though that they had just started talking to each other last semester. They’d known each other, of course, or at least had known OF each other, sharing a few classes here and there and rooming at the same dorm if not sharing a room, but somehow neither had actually introduced himself until Raphael, in typical fashion, had tripped over nothing and spilled his entire bookbag over the floor while walking into a class they shared. Luvander had been the first to stop laughing and the only one to kneel down to help him collect his things, and had taken him out for a coffee afterwards. He had known the entire time that he was a sort of charity project or something, and had resented it at first, but Luvander had won him over with a wicked sense of humor, hilarious gossip and a penchant for being every bit as much of a disaster as Raphael himself, with the dubious grace of hiding it better. Raphael found himself on even footing pretty quickly, bringing Luvander to a poetry slam or indie theater presentation for every fashion show Luv made him sit through and letting Luvander cry on his shoulder about He Who Must Not Be Named every other weekend.

“You know, I don’t know why I bother,” sighed Raphael, sinking back into the welcoming embrace of his own arms upon the table once more. “Because not only is he gorgeous, Luvander? Not only that? But he has the best taste in books. He reads Milton, Luvander. For fun. He reads Keats. A man like that could have anyone. I bet, fuck, I bet he’s straight.” Raphael’s arms absorbed most of the wailing, soft though it was since they were out in public.

“Nobody reads Milton for fun,” Luvander’s cryptic comment came hand in hand with an audible grin that permeated every syllable. “Also, you might be surprised. Just. Talk to him. Say hi. Ask how his semester is going.”

“No,” Raphael pouted into the table. The table remained impassive. Luvander rolled his eyes.

“You remain the very spirit of courage,” he muttered, but it didn’t have much force behind it since even Luvander had some shame about being so hypocritical.

~

Luvander spent more time than he strictly should have deciding whether it was feasible to only ever eat food from off-campus. Or, perhaps, just switch colleges altogether and thus save himself from further humiliation.

While the campus did have a few restaurants, the dormitory food hub was widely considered the best food on campus. One could go there at any hour of the day, in any attire, to study, socialize, or just grab a quick bite. One of the most convenient things about it, though, was the delivery service that extended to the edges of campus. Luvander’s on-campus apartments, happily, qualified for that service. He’d made frequent use of it too, once he found out that a handful of members of his scholarship program were running amok behind the food counters. Magoughin, Niall, Chastity and a handful of others in the program were taking advantage of the free meals that went with the otherwise inglorious job of food service, and their varying schedules meant that anytime Luvander wanted to drop into the hub in person, he was almost always guaranteed to be greeted with a friendly face and a dirty joke.

Last night, Luvander’d had every intention of making himself a salad and curling up with the memoirs of a certain famous general and war hero that he was supposed to have read last weekend in order to write the report that was due tomorrow. Last night, Luvander had in fact turned on the tv, opened a beer, and found himself caught up in a romantic movie he’d seen a million times before. He always ended up feeling lonely and sort of desperate for companionship on those nights, but he knew if he walked down to the hub he wouldn’t get any work done at all. It was a perfect storm of emotion that made him pick up the phone just to hear a familiar voice on the other end. Before he knew it, he was calling for a delivery and saying friendly hellos and lies about brain food to Magoughin, who saw his bullshit for what it was and laughed that _damnably_ sexy laugh. Luvander, as week in the knees as always for a pretty face and prettier voice, had playfully invited Mags to bring the order on over himself.

He’d finally settled into the memoir when he heard the knock at the door, and, hope springing eternal, Luvander jumped up to greet the delivery person. He’d called through the door as he unlocked it that he’d been waiting an awfully long time, that his delivery driver had better have something _piping hot_ for him because he had a terrible craving for something to _put in his mouth_ \- only to freeze in petrified horror when eyes the color of dark chocolate gave him a very appreciative once-over and lips that were just fucking unfair on a man curved up on one side.

Luvander vowed eternal enmity on Mags for about the fifth time, took the parcel, stepped back and slammed the door before any words could be said. He realized his mistake as soon as it was done, of course, and winced in horror. Niall knocked again and Luvander brushed his hair back out of his face, taking a few deep breaths in a vain effort to calm himself down before opening the door again.

Luvander gave Niall a shaky smile that he hoped was charming and took out his wallet. “Sorry about that,” he said, focusing on counting out bills instead of looking at Niall’s lips so that hopefully he could refrain from further ruining his reputation in front of this horrible fucking Adonis. “This part is much easier without a great big box between us, right?” Smooth, Luv. Real smooth.

“I agree,” Niall smirked. “I like not having any barriers between us.” Luvander had to close his eyes for a moment because holy shit, what?! He reminded himself fiercely that Niall undoubtedly flirted with everyone and he shoved the money at Niall with a forced smile. There was a reputation, you see, that painted Niall and his sexy, sexy lips as one of the biggest womanizers on campus and, gender and sexuality issues aside, Luvander didn’t actually want to be a notch on anyone’s bed.

Somehow, Niall was still talking to him as if they were having a perfectly normal transaction. “Studying alone tonight?” Luvander wished, desperately, that he wasn’t doing exactly that. He wanted to be going to a campus party, or having extremely interesting foreign exchange students over or skydiving or fucking anything other than being a pathetic, lonely little cindy who couldn’t even look his crush in the eye for fear of blurting something horrendously awkward out.

“The struggle continues,” Luvander laughed, wondering what he even meant by that and why he’d said it and why he was laughing when a calm affirmative would have been perfectly acceptable.

“Shame,” Niall smirked. He tucked the money into his back pocket, drawing Luvander’s attention to that general area and Luvander thought he had better get inside before he was caught staring. “If you ever need a study buddy, give me a call. I’m pretty caught up in all my classes.”

“…Then why do you need a study buddy?” Luvander asked, distracted by the way Niall’s jeans hugged his hips and feeling very out of his element. Niall just grinned, waggled his fingers to make Luvander glance up at his face, and very deliberately winked before turning and whistling as he took the stairs leaving down from Luvander’s third floor apartment two at a time.

Luvander did not, in fact, get much studying done that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the chapters are rlly short and tbh I probably won't be able to update until next weekend so. Here is this thing.

It was a perfect sort of day outside, with green grass and sunshine so bright you needed sunglasses, warm enough for girls to walk around in shorts and skirts that showed an absolutely incredible amount of leg and guys to work up a healthy sweat shooting impromptu hoops in inconvenient places. It was the kind of day that made Niall want to walk away from every responsibility, grab Erdeni and her girlfriends and drive until they hit the beach. Unfortunately, it was also a day where he had three lectures, a seminar, and a six hour shift at the hub running deliveries. He’d started his first class as the sun came up and he was mostly seeing that sun through dusty windows.

Niall stretched as subtly as he could and took a short mental break from negligence torts to indulge in a little fantasy about a certain gorgeous blond and how he’d look draped and debauched over a table.

Jeannot had picked up on Luvander’s crush last month, and _somehow_ that secret had leaked to everyone- Niall included. It had made him start thinking more about Luvander. They’d been in the history department’s thesis program together from the beginning, and Niall was no stranger to imagining his friends naked, but he tended to prefer relationships to occur more organically- dancing at a party, getting close during a study session, and other various daily forms of kismet that brought college students together. Niall didn’t normally plan a strategy of seduction that lasted longer than an evening. He rarely had time. Luvander was too cute to ignore, though, and how he got all blushy and fidgety when he looked at Niall? That was something new and delicious. To not take advantage would be a crime.

There was a party this weekend- of course, there were parties every night if you knew where to look, but this month was an event with the fraternities, so there were pretty excellent parties every night and Niall had every intention of taking advantage. He made arrangements between classes, making sure that everyone in their very exclusive program would be there, knowing, of course, there would be exceptions- there was a wide diversity of personalities in their program, but Niall felt confident that Luvander wasn’t such a wilting flower that he wouldn’t go. Even if it wasn’t the first warm weekend of spring, the promise of Ghislain and Magoughin hosting meant incredible sangria and unusual but delicious treats.

The job of pulling strings from an unseen location was, admittedly, not something his talents were well suited for. It was fortunate for him that the party had already been planned- he just needed to nudge Ghislain into adding his place to the festivities that were already happening in the entire Charlotte dorm building. Technically, all three dorm buildings were likely to have parties every night this month, but Miranda was posh with private security and fancy chandeliers everywhere that made most students too uncomfortable in their own skins to really let go and party. Molly, the freshmen dorm, went the completely opposite way, with a proudly held record for most noise complaints and police lights flashing every other night. Charlotte Hall was, then, a happy medium for students who wanted to have some fun and still be able to pass their classes.

Niall found himself fantasizing about the world outside his classes often, and he took any chance he could to join that world. The chances, though, were few and far between. Niall’s father had made it abundantly clear that he thought college was a waste of time and that Niall would be better off joining his elder brothers in the military. His mother, as his only defender, fought word and deed to keep him in a more comfortably academic life; her efforts could only go so far, so Niall was left to make up the deficit in support by working himself to the bone. A double major, the honors academic thesis program, studying for the legal entrance exam and late night shifts at the hub meant recreation ate into his sleep and homework hours. Niall, fortunately, was blessed with an exceptional memory and an ability to force himself through even the driest reading assignments without mentally checking out. He supposed it was the same strength that got his father and brothers through long campaigns, though it would be a cold day in hell before any of those meatheads would admit he shared the skill.

Time between classes was spent sending off lightning quick texts; a tug here and there on certain strings and the night was directed his way without a great deal of effort. That done, Niall took one last look at the sky as he crossed between buildings and headed once more into the fray.

~~

Raphael actually saw Ivory first this time, though in all fairness, he’d been looking for him, throwing glances over his shoulder and doubtless looking like some kind of paranoid spy. He was stacking Seon philosophy textbooks in a lonely corner when he caught a flash of white-blond hair by the computer corrals. Even better, he noticed Ivory looking around at the people of the library instead of looking at the corrals for an empty spot, which sent a thrill of hope down Raphael’s spine. He waited until Ivory looked his way and gave him a shy little wave, nervously tucking his hair behind his ear as Ivory walked over. “Hi,” he grinned, feeling shy and ridiculous.

“Hi,” Ivory repeated, hands shoved firmly into the pockets of his leather jacket.

Raphael bit his lower lip, working up some of his nerve. “How are you doing? Are you looking for a book?” He leaned against the stacks in an attempt to look casual.

“Yeah. Um, I returned the other ones at the front desk.” Ivory shifted and looked away, seeming uncomfortable.

“Did you finish Keats? Sorry, I know it’s personal, it’s just, he’s one of my favorites,” Raphael bit his lower lip again. “Sorry.”

“I didn’t read much of it.” Ivory’s voice was soft and emotionless, his shoulders pulling in slightly. Raph couldn’t help but make a small sad noise. “Oh.” It was not, he thought, as if his taste in poetry was the law of the land. He tried, without much luck, to stop himself from feeling disappointed. “I just, I. Well.” He wanted to defend his favorite, but he didn’t want to drive Ivory away before they had a chance to talk at all. “Were, um. Were you looking for any suggestions? If you tell me what you didn’t like about Keats maybe I can suggest something more to your taste?” Ivory was still looking away, looking like a cat that had been picked up by a child and petted against its will. It was distressing to feel like the child in that scenario.

“No,” Ivory said softly, then gave Raphael a very serious look. It was sort of crushing, that single syllable, and the way Ivory’s shoulders were squared under his jacket took Raphael’s breath away in fear. He thought, irrationally, that he was about to be hit. Hands shaking, he brushed hair out of his eyes again and forced the tears that were creeping up the back of his neck to stay there, away from the light of day. Raph ground his teeth, biting back a sad noise until he could make rational words again, ask Ivory what the matter was (as something had, very clearly, upset the pale man).

“I hate reading,” Ivory finally blurted out, his entire body tense with awkwardness. He actually took a step back, then glared defiantly at Raphael, pale blue eyes terrifying in their ferocity. Raphael stared back, his dismay overshadowed by confusion.

“But…” He began, looking down at the book he’d forgotten to reshelve, the book which he’d been unconsciously holding in front of himself like a shield. “You.. I.. All the books you checked out are really good? Not that there’s anything wrong with not liking them,” he backtracked quickly, “I mean, they aren’t for everyone?? But you checked a lot of books out.”

“Your friend said they were books you really like,” Ivory admitted, looking away again as if he would rather be anywhere else. “I wanted your attention, I just.. didn’t really think ahead to what I’d do when I had it.”

It was rather like the floor dropped out from beneath Raphael. His confusion and nervous tension were obliterated, replaced by a pleasant kind of warmth crawling up his neck and onto his cheeks.  “Oh,” he said eloquently. Then he repeated it, because here was Ivory admitting to what sounded an awful lot like a crush on him, and the world wasn’t ending. Gravity was presumably still happening, not that he could tell, since he felt much lighter on his feet. He offered up his arm to Ivory, maybe a bit too suddenly because the paler man flinched and gave him a weirded-out look.

“Sorry, just.. do you mind maybe pinching me?” Raphael asked breathlessly. “I want to make sure I’m not dreaming.” He bit back a grin, and Ivory raised an eyebrow at him. “And, um,” Raphael bit his lower lip, “If I’m not dreaming, I can think of a few things to do. Now that you have my attention, that is.”

Ivory snorted and gently pushed his arm down. “Nerd,” he accused softly, though the pinch that followed was anything but soft. Raphael yelped and jumped and rubbed his arm. “Guess you aren’t dreaming,” Ivory’s voice was low and rich and made Raphael feel very happy in the pants area.

“Guess not,” he replied, realizing his cheeks felt hot. Shit, that meant he was blushing. “So.. about those things.” He glanced at a dark study corral and raised his eyebrows. Ivory, though, shied away from the blatant invitation. “..I was thinking maybe dinner, actually?”

The breath caught in Raphael’s throat. This wasn’t a sordid hookup in a dark library room, this was something like a date. Maybe even a chance for intellectual discussion as well as fun and sexy things. “Yeah,” he whispered, then swallowed to get the words past the lump in his throat. “Yeah, okay. Do you want me to cook? I have access to a kitchen..” he trailed off, wondering what it would take to get Compagnon out of their shared living space for the evening.

“Actually I was thinking about going out somewhere. Do you eat sushi?” Ivory tilted his head, still shy but with a growing shade of concerned as Raphael spent too long fighting the lump in his throat that had reappeared. Sordid hookups were the general rule for him, always with the lights off and never with a lot of talking. It had happened too many times for him to write it off as coincidence, and it had happened with too many outed cindies for him to have any illusions about what was keeping him a dirty little secret.

“You.. you want to be seen? With me?” He asked. “In public?”

Ivory blinked. “Yes?” He tilted his head again. Raphael was beginning to recognize it as a sign of puzzlement and he found it incredibly endearing. “Are you not out? Because if you would rather keep it private..”

“No! No, no no, it isn’t that,” Raphael reassured him, grabbing Ivory’s arm in his brief panic only to gasp a little and let go, afraid of overstepping his boundaries. “It’s just that, no. I’d love to.” He smiled warmly, then seized up with a sudden suspicion. “Hey, wait, did you say one of my friends gave you a list of books I’d like?” He distinctly remembered Luvander snooping through his personal collection more than once, and Ivory’s nod sealed Luv’s fate. The snooping had been several months and at least ten sexually-frustrated rants ago.

“…I’m going to kill him,” Raphael swore, too stunned to give it any force. Ivory nodded very seriously and said “Okay.”

“After sushi,” Raphael added, and Ivory began to smile.

“After sushi,” he agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party happens.

The fact that Luvander was nowhere near the library only made Raphael want to kill him sooner. Frantic and angry text messages were cheerfully ignored, and the only thing Raphael heard from his soon-to-be-deceased friend was that there was a campus party tonight. That was it. The beginning, middle and end of what Luvander had to say to Raphael after working him like a puppet was to invite him to a party.

Raphael didn’t horribly mind campus parties. He liked to dance, and it was dark enough that he wasn’t so self-conscious about how he looked. He liked getting drunk, and he liked the pretty girls who danced with him and let him put his hands up their skirts, and he liked the occasional boy who put their hands on his bum. He really liked what tended to follow, in dark rooms with the music pulsing in through the walls. He could probably have gone without the hangover and vague sense of shame afterwards, and a night of intellectual discourse at the on-campus bar with his poetry group was often more rewarding, but he pretty much took what he could get when it came to social interaction. Besides, Luvander would be there and he had murder to commit.

Raphael edged past a lively game of beer pong, stopping for a moment to cheer on someone he recognized from Arlemagne lit who already looked pretty sauced. The party was actually spread through several rooms on the second floor of one of the student apartment buildings, so Raphael waded through several seas of inebriated students, most of whom were drinking cheap beer or liquor and soda out of disposable red cups. The whole thing had a sort of trashy vibe, though that might have just been Raphael, thinking suddenly of Ivory and what he might say if he could see Raphael in a place like this. The thought was uncomfortable, and Raphael wondered if he was outgrowing college parties.

He sighed, turned down the offer of a drink from a very pretty girl, bit his lip as she walked away and forced himself to search and leave quickly. The next apartment over housed some familiar faces and he waved at Jeannot and Ghislain, who were supervising some horrendous sangria-like concoction of fruit and liquor that was potent enough to curl his hair even tighter. Magoughin was there too, with an arm draped over Jeannot’s shoulders and a wicked expression as he considered the potion. Raphael decided it would be in his best interests to stay well clear of the kitchen, lest he be fed culinary experiment after culinary experiment and end up contributing bad ideas to the disaster.

The apartment was as crowded as any of the others, but at least he saw some familiar faces- Thom and Balfour were over in the corner engaged in some very passionate discourse, and if Thom was around Rook couldn’t be far. Considering that, the lack of shouting and fire almost seemed miraculous. Everyone everywhere was holding plastic cups or eating with their fingers, the absolute barbarians. Luvander smirked at Raphael from across the crowded room and made his way over, carefully guarding two glasses- real ones, Raphael noticed, the ridiculous priss, and he suddenly remembered how overwhelmingly fond he was of the man.

“Hello, darling,” Luvander purred, pressing a glass into his hand.

“I’m going to kill you,” Raphael responded.

They ended up sitting on a little loveseat in the corner, Raphael with his arms spread along the back of the couch and Luvander draped bonelessly with one long leg over the arm and his head tucked into Raphael’s shoulder.

“Sushi sounds like a delightful first date,” Luvander yelled intimately into the general direction of his ear, “And I want you to know that I’m horrifyingly jealous and also very proud of you.”

Raphael arranged his arm so he could pet Luvander’s hair. Whatever the fuck was in Ghislain’s punch, it had worked through them like magic or poison, dissolving their bones and their worries. “It’s not weird?” He asked, threading his fingers through Luvander’s hair and tugging out the elastic that held it in a ponytail.

“Why would that be weird, Raphy-pants? Sushi is perfectly respectable.” Luvander shifted too, curling his knees underneath him and wrapping his arms around Raphael’s waist. At least, Raphael thought with amusement, Luvander was a cuddly drunk instead of a boisterous or angry drunk. He was also somehow on his second glass of Ghislain’s magnificent punch, so he was lost to his impulses and Raphael wouldn’t be able to pry him off with a crowbar.

“It’s, I don’t know. It’s a proper date.” He turned his head so he could talk normally into Luvander’s ear instead of yell, and he breathed in the smell of Luvander’s shampoo. There was a powerful envy in him as he ran his fingers through the soft locks. His own hair was a mess of wiry tangles that Compagnon had once tried to use to clean the dishes. “He’ll be out with me in public. On a date.”

“Yyyyyeeeeeessss,” Luvander dragged out the word well past its usual length. “That is pretty much a common component of a date. Worried about making a fool of yourself?” His blue eyes were half lidded, looking up at Raphael with sleepy, smug drunken concern.

Raphael sighed. “No,” he admitted, “I’m pretty sure that’s inevitable. I just don’t usually go on dates? Should I dress up? Do I bring anything?”

Luvander sat up and scooted closer, cupping Raphael’s face and keeping his hands there, looking into his eyes solemnly. “Raphael, you are beautiful and smart,” he swept a thumb over Raphael’s cheek, “And you are going to sweep him off his feet no matter what you do. Stop fussing and start being excited. You’re going on a date.” He leaned in and kissed Raphael full on the mouth. His lips were soft and the way he was cradling Raphael’s face made him feel warm and loved.

“Thanks,” he smiled into Luvander’s mouth, closing his eyes as Luvander slid back down for more drunken snuggles. He pressed a tiny kiss into Luv’s hair and rested his chin on the blonde’s head, watching Jeannot wriggle in a sexy little grinding dance against Magoughin while Ghislain took care of things in the kitchen. The music was made for sexy dancing, but Raphael decided to save his next dance for the incredibly attractive blond who wanted to take him out on a date. It wasn’t much to give up, to be honest; Raphael had crazy smart friends who liked to experiment in the kitchen (and with each other, if that look on Mags’ face was anything to go by), he was doing well in school and wasn’t fired from his job, and he had a best friend who gave enough of a shit about him to meddle with his love life. All in all, Raphael thought as his eyes slid closed, he was pretty fucking well at peace with the world.

~

Late to the party despite his best intentions and more than a little frustrated about that, Niall flung an arm around Mags, pulling him into the kitchen and cheerfully interrupting the little flirt game he had going on with Jeannot. “Mags, my buddy,” he began with a shit eating grin. “I don’t suppose I could ask you for a favor, huh? Buddy? Pal?”

“That depends,” Mags grinned back, showing a few more teeth than was strictly polite. “You gonna keep cockblocking me tonight?” Niall tended, as a matter of habit, to ignore his friend’s tendency to overshare when it came to romance. There was a time and a place for sharing, you see, and while the line between acceptable and unacceptable was occasionally blurred for Niall, for Magoughin it didn’t fucking exist. Comps found it hilarious, which tended to set the rest of them off at work telling bawdy too-personal stories no matter who might hear, or, since Mags collected dirty stories from both his history and anthropology majors, telling dirty stories that dated back to the earliest days of the Ke-han empire and the madcap heyday of Ecclesias. It put them, as Rook had put it once, in noble company.

Niall noticed Jeannot’s eyebrow raise and decided his own mental health would be best preserved by ignoring that, too. At least until he could think of a way to use it as blackmail.

“I just wanna know if you’ve seen Luvander around. Just whisper in my ear, buddy, tell me those sweet words and I’m out of your hair all night.” He’d looked, of course. Balfour and Thom denied seeing anyone, but they could have been on fucking Mars for all the attention they paid the rest of the room, and interrupting Rook while he danced with Have was likely to get a limb torn off. The room was dark and crowded and the music was too loud for him to stay without drinking, but he didn’t want to start in on that until he was sure he was in the right place; Niall had Intentions tonight that centered around finding that hot little blonde and working all the anxious tension out of him using only his mouth.

 “He’s here,” Ghislain smirked and refilled a cup for a giggly freshman-looking girl. “Saw him kissing Raphael on the couch earlier. Looked _real_ sweet.”

“Sorry, mate,” Magoughin clapped Niall on the back, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes showing a distinct lack of sorrow. “Hard luck there.” Niall slipped out from beneath his friend’s shovel-like hands, recovering his faded smile with a shrug.

“No worries. Good luck with the… whatever.” He waved in a vague way, gave Jeannot a wink and finger guns, and fucked off into the dark crowd where he could drop the fake smile for a moment. Sure enough, a quick inspection of the couch revealed the two cuddled up and sleeping with wineglasses drooping from their hands. They looked out of place in their stillness and Niall’s chest constricted a tiny bit. He plucked the glasses and set them aside, then crouched next to them and gently shook Luvander’s shoulder. It was Raphael, however, who woke up and gave Niall a sleepy smile. Niall didn’t miss Raph’s hand curling possessively in Luvander’s hair, but keeping his emotions on the downlow was old hat for him, so he just smiled something charming and squashed his jealousy and disappointment down where it would stay out of sight.

“You guys are the life of the party tonight,” Niall grinned, resisting the urge to put his own hand in Luvander’s hair. It wasn’t that he thought either of them would object, but what he wanted and what he had permission to do were still entirely distinct and Niall, new as he was to the actual practice of a slow burn seduction, didn’t want anything he did to violate Luvander’s trust in him.

“Hmm, we should probably go home, yeah?” Raphael hummed and stretched, fingers curling. Niall stood up before he did something regrettable and offered his hand. “I can give you a ride, if you want? I’m not feeling the party vibe tonight, you know?” It was even true; all his plans for tonight had hinged on Luvander being awake and coherent. The dual disappointment of Luvander being passed out and apparently already claimed took Niall directly out of a partying mood, which was fine. Really. He had homework to do anyway.

Raphael nudged Luvander and gave him an intimate little smile that had heat pooling in Niall’s chest- not a good heat, but something born of misplaced jealousy that he had to squash under his heel like a cigarette butt. “I’ll wait for you two outside,” he managed before backing away, reminding himself that Luvander wasn’t a thing to be owned, that he didn’t have anything near the right to get jealous about what he did with other people, that his disappointment over moving too slow was a bad habit that needed to be stomped out.

He almost managed to convince himself.

~~

Raphael managed to coax Luvander to a vaguely sitting position, though it took patience and no small amount of bribery. He was briefly distracted by Anastasia and Natalia, who sat with him and chatted about nothing, Natalia’s frilly skirt riding up her thigh in a pleasantly distracting way and Anastasia twining her pale blonde braid in her fingers. When he finally remembered himself and got Luvander up and to the door, any feelings of guilt he might have had about making Niall wait for him were banished by a gingery twist of annoyance when he saw Niall and Erdeni sharing a fragrant cigarette, something that didn’t actually smell like tobacco, just outside the door.

At least he’d had company while he waited.

Erdeni was sporty and punk with a sports bra showing under a muscle tee that was more hole than shirt, with an undercut giving way to brunette hair and a spray of freckles under green eyes. Raphael had been half in love with her last year, but to be fair, he was half in love with half the people in school. It wasn’t his fault the people in their program were all damned attractive. She gave Raphael a lazy little wave as Niall got up with a truly unfair grace for the way he’d been sprawled out against the wall in the hallway.

“You got that?” The way Niall smirked when he nodded at Luvander, who seemed to be sleepwalking with an arm around Raphael’s shoulders, made Raph start to sort of understand Luvander’s months-long crush. The thing was, Raphael knew that Niall knew about it- Jeannot had told everyone, separately, in confidence, months ago. It broke his heart to see Luvander pine, and he was half glad that Niall pretended not to know and half annoyed that he didn’t just do something about it to let Luvander move on.

Raphael glanced at Erdeni. “Yeah. You sure you don’t want to stay?” There was this ring of space around parties, like the halo around a planet, where Raphael always felt a little out of place. The space outside was still part of the party, but it was more intimate and somehow more dangerous. Erdeni and Niall shared a look that was something Raphael couldn’t hope to translate, and then Niall was giving him a look over his shoulders, the cool and challenging look a predator gave a meal he was too full to pursue but was considering it, anyway, just for giggles.

“Told you I’d give you a ride, didn’t I?” Niall dropped what he’d been smoking and crushed it underfoot, walking away without looking back. With an awkward little wave at Erdeni, Raphael followed, navigating Luvander down the twisted iron staircase to the badly lit carpark.

Niall’s car was a beaten up thing, but at least it was clean. Getting Luvander into the backseat took elbow grease, swearing, and straining in an awkward position with his rear end hanging out of the car; by the end of it, Raphael was flushed and miserable, and stayed silent for the (thankfully short) ride home. Unexpectedly, Niall helped carry Luvander to his apartment- two flights of narrow, rickety stairs without an elevator, so Raphael was both grateful for the help and increasingly anxious about how awkward he was around Niall, who was- in Raphael’s mind- at least twice as cool as him and sure to start a few new rumours about the specific kinds of uncool that Raphael was. All in all, it was a miserable night.

Niall held Luvander upright as Raphael took the keys from his unconscious friend’s blazer and unlocked the door for them. He even scooped up Luvander by the knees and breezed in past Raph, tossing careless-sounding words over his shoulder. “Get some water, won’t you?” Raphael sighed and did as bidded, now both awkward and irritated. He pulled out a mismatching set of glass tumblers and glared at them as if all his problems were their fault. He stopped short of breaking them, though, because the hope that Luvander would replace them with a matching set was a vain one, as Luvander had told him in so many words over their first dinner at the apartment.

Said apartment was a tiny thing, bordering on cramped. The housing complex was on school grounds, owned by the school, and only let out to second year students; despite the strict housing rules, narrow stairways and steeply sloped ceiling that made it awkward to navigate when there was more than one person inside, the place seemed at times like a paradise compared to the dorm housing Raphael shared with Compagnon. In the daytime, the apartment was bright with flowers and amusing posters, but Raphael hadn’t bothered switching on the light and Niall, he realized suddenly, probably didn’t know where the switch was. Yet, somehow, he’d carried Luvander to bed without any audible thumps or cursing that would have indicated disaster.

When Raphael hurried to check on them, the safety lights from the hallway outside shone through the bedroom window enough for Raphael to see that Niall was sitting on Luvander’s bed, face illuminated from his phone. Eyes the color of chocolate glanced up to meet his own and Raphael remembered, nauseatingly, the day that Luvander had gone on about those eyes in poetry; it had felt like a switch in roles. Raphael saw the color, and he understood the attraction without sharing even an iota of it. He debated whether or not he’d share the poetic observations his traitorous mind had conjured up tomorrow. It would depend, really, on how vile a hung over Luvander was in the morning.

Niall stood and held Raphael’s gaze like a challenge. “Guess he’s all yours, then,” he said softly, and Raphael was too confused and awkward to answer. After a moment, Niall brushed past him and let himself out.

It wasn’t until Raphael had curled up on the floor after making use of Luvander’s shower (as well as his shampoo, soap, and towel) that he realized that Niall had tossed the phone back on the bed instead of pocketing it. By then, sleep was whispering distractingly in his ear; he meant to sit up, to check what mischief Niall might have caused, but one blink turned into a longer one and before he could convince his heavy limbs to move, he was fast asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone is absolutely, horrendously terrible.

The first thing Luvander became aware of was that light was creeping into his skull even through his closed eyelids, and that he felt like someone had taken a cheese grater to the inside of his skull. After a lot of groaning, some twisting around and an indeterminate length of time avoiding the real world, he finally rolled over to take in his surroundings. There was a glass of water and a bottle of headache medicine on his nightstand, which probably meant Raphael was around somewhere being disastrous.

Luvander couldn’t remember how he’d gotten home. While that was not terribly threatening- he had no odd aches or pains, just the usual full-body misery that accompanied his hangovers, and his clothes were still on- it was a bit alarming, considering who had been hosting the party. He wondered how many pictures of trashed Luvander dancing on a table would be posted this time. He wondered, also, if he had puked on anyone’s shoes.

He carefully rolled himself to the edge of the bed, accumulating twisted sheets and blankets like that video game that had been so popular a few year ago. Eventually his bulky burrito self reached the edge of the mattress and he cracked open one bleary eyelid to evaluate the state of his bedroom. A second blanket was folded in the corner of the room with a note pinned on top. The apartment seemed quiet enough. Luvander was, apparently, alone.

Checking his phone took a few attempts, since the screen’s light was too bright for his tender morning eyes, but he pushed himself through the pain to check for messages. Nothing yet- but that only meant the inevitable storm had not yet hit, and he had an indeterminable amount of time to prepare for the wrath of social media. At least he didn’t have classes today.

Luvander dragged himself through a shower and a dull breakfast of toast and tea and had begun a more direct hunt for embarrassing social-media drunkposts before Raphael returned, letting himself in with Luvander’s own keys but bearing a box of pastries so delicious-smelling that Luvander forgave him.

“He returns, like Orpheus, to the land of the living,” Raphael grinned at him, far too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to be tolerated. Unfortunately, Luvander was still achy and sick, so beating him to death with the pastry box was out of the question; another time, perhaps. The chipper bastard in question had the audacity to ruffle his hair, dodge Luvander’s flailing protest and laugh as he set the box on Luvander’s cluttered countertop.

“If you didn’t get me an éclair, I will have your ponytail as a trophy,” Luvander threatened, but like a puppy barking at a larger dog, he received only amused tolerance.

“Do you even know me?” The promised éclair was served up with a mocking bow and light chatter that Luvander heard through a dim haze of honestly just not caring very much. They ended up curled up on the couch, Luvander with his head in Raphael’s lap and his long legs hanging over the side of the armrest, still hunting for scraps of himself on social media as Raphael napped through a sitcom rerun. His hunt was unsuccessful and he finally gave up and tossed his phone to the floor instead of charging it, despite the battery being painfully low.

They spent the day in lazy quiet, futilely attempting to work on homework and pretending they weren’t horrendously distracted. Neither of them were able to focus on homework until the sun was nearly down and Raphael finally managed to work up the motivation to get home. Luvander tried to convince himself that the quiet was welcome, and almost succeeded.

~~

The sun was lowering itself close to the horizon when Niall showed up for work, blank faced and lost in thought. He got like that, sometimes, when there was an especially tough problem on his mind. Work would get done, of course- unlike some of the boys, Niall could divide his mind into sections, move his hands and feet to one rhythm while carrying on a conversation in another and pay perfect attention to both, the utter bastard. However, Niall’s moods were contagious; trying to pass around a joke with Niall in a funk was a bit like trying to dribble a deflated basketball. Magoughin decided he was having none of it.

“Did you hear,” Mags grinned at Compagnon over Niall’s brooding grumpy face, “About the small town girl?”

“Yeah,” Compagnon snickered. “The one who was living in a lonely world?” Niall groaned rolled his eyes, concentrating very hard on counting his till.

“Well, she took a midnight train.” Mags smirked, opening the ovens to slide in a new pizza. “Going where?” “Anywhere.”

Compagnon, up to his elbows in flour, almost ruined it with a giggle but managed to rise to the occasion and counter Niall’s heavy sigh with “Well, I actually heard it was a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit.”

“Oh my god,” Niall muttered, rubbing his temples, losing count of the five notes for the second time. Magoughin grinned wickedly, dusting off his hands and moving in behind Niall. “I guess it could have been him as took a midnight train, going anywhere.”

“Hate you. Hate you both.”

“Did you enjoy the party last night, Mags?” Compagnon pushed a tray of calzones to the sitting rack and began plating a new bunch. “I heard it was smoky and there was a singer.”

“It’s like you aren’t even trying.” Niall wrapped a rubber band around the fives and moved on, a tiny frown of concentration tightening his lips.

Magoughin smirked and made sure to brush past Niall, washing his hands. “It smelled like wine and cheap perfume.” “It smelled like alcohol-“ Niall began sharply, but Magoughin just spoke louder. “And the movie that never fucking ended! It went on-“

“And on!” Compagnon chimed in.

“-And on, and on! Strangers waiting!” They both sang, grinning ferally at Niall who sat with his chin resting on his fist, glaring at them. “Walking down the boulevard-“ Magoughin shook the excess water off his hands into Compagnon’s face and shook his hips in a flirtatious little dance.

Niall closed the till and rolled his eyes, but his frown wasn’t as serious as it could have been. “You two are the actual worst. Thanks.”

“He lives!” Mags leaned on their side of the front counter, arms crossed at Niall with a knowing grin on his face. “And he may be beaten now, but that just means he can get back up and go fight another round, aye?”

Niall shook his head and kneeled down to the safe to tuck the bank bag safely out of sight. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, you menace. I went home with someone last night.” He stayed crouched, presumably to avoid looking Mags in the face. The coward.

“Yeah,” Mags grinned. “But you didn’t get laid. Not with that sour face.”

“Ugh, can we not?” Niall rose and dusted himself off, looking terribly unimpressed. “Let’s stop pretending you give a damn, anyway, and skip straight to talking about your favorite subject.” Mags looked him up and down, eyebrows raised.

“Think he means you, mate,” Compagnon giggled, not bothering to turn to face them. Niall just tilted his head and gave a patently false smile. “So are the rumors true? Does Jeannot have all kinds of kinky shit in his bedroom?”

Magoughin had made no mystery of his bicurious pursuit of Jeannot- slim, dark Jeannot with long hair, long fingers and- mm- long everything, really. It had started when he invited Jeannot and Ghislain to a meeting for the undergraduate Anthropology club to discuss the diaspora affecting those with Ramanthe heritage. He hadn’t actually expected either of them to attend, but Jeannot had showed up and offered a few salient points with a sharp tongue and a sharper smile. Funny, really, as Ghislain was the one who claimed Ramanthine heritage early and often, wearing it like a badge of pride while Jeannot had never mentioned it in Magoughin’s hearing. They’d left the meeting together and had gone to a dive bar, sharing drinks and intense conversation until the sun came up and Mags realized he wanted the other man in his bed more intensely than he’d wanted any woman in a long time. The abrupt shift in the self-awareness he had of his own sexuality took a few weeks to digest, and working up the courage to proposition the most manipulative, gossip-loving fucker on campus took almost as long. Last night’s results, though unexpected, had been fucking spectacular and mind-opening in a lot of ways.

“Wouldn’t know!” Magoughin whistled cheerfully as he pulled on a set of vinyl gloves, letting Niall push past him to finish opening the after hours pizzeria and hub delivery. “Ghislain does, though.”

Niall paused and processed that for a moment, eyes slightly widening. “Nope.” He shook his head and carried on with his business. “Nope, nope, can’t hear you. Not listening. Compagnon, turn on the radio, will you?”

Mags grinned wide, savoring the moment. “Turns out they share a bed-“

“You got that fucking song stuck in my head, dooon’t stop beleiiiiving!” There was a tone of desperate laughter under Niall’s off-key, too-fast singing.

“And Ghislain _really_ likes it when you-“ Niall threw open the shutters that hid their little kitchen alcove from sight while they were closed and leaned over the counter, looking for students in the hub. “We’re open! Come buy some pizza so Magoughin will _shut! The fuck! Up_!”

Niall hadn’t actually needed to yell, and was given a briefly unimpressed look by Jeannot who was waiting in the mostly-empty dining hall. Mags moved over to where Niall was leaning over the counter, looming and smirking and meeting Jeannot’s unacceptably smug eyes. Something interesting happened low in his belly, something that felt a lot like smug victory. Lust was there too, of course, but the magnetic pull of his hips was new. When Jeannot quirked an eyebrow, Mags glanced around for an excuse to take a quick break and drag the darker man off somewhere private to further investigate the phenomenon.

“Is he being awful again?” Jeannot lounged against the counter opposite Niall, somehow looking both casual and wicked. “Don’t believe a word he says. The man’s a filthy storyteller.”

“Do us all a favor, will you,” Niall pleaded, “and threaten to remove something precious if he keeps oversharing? Because, if you don’t, I’ll have to rope Ivory or Rook into it and we all know that can get really messy.” Mags wrapped his arms around Niall, trusting to his larger size and the presence of witnesses to keep him safe in doing so.

“You love me. Stop denying it.”

“Absolute menace,” Niall countered, gazing up at him with fondness below a thin layer of disgust.

Jeannot cleared his throat. “Actually, I just swung by to return these.”

Jeannot had a certain reputation with the boys. He’d joined around the same time as Niall, a full year after Ghislain and Magoughin, but he had a sharp wit and a talent for peacemaking that was more subtle and devious than the more physical intimidation adopted by Adamo and Ghislain. That talent, along with the oodles of blackmail he somehow managed to collect on each and every one of them, put him firmly in the top ranks of their little academic clique. He used this ability to get away with things that none of the others could. Unacceptable menace that he was, he was dangling a pair of boxers from his finger- though where he’d been keeping them before, Mags couldn’t begin to guess, considering how unacceptably tight his pants were.

“Mags,” Niall said, an unhappy note in his voice, “My friend, that had better be a banana in your pocket.”

Magoughin grinned, hugging his unfortunate friend a bit tighter just because he was happy all over again that the universe had allowed last night to happen. “It’s not,” he sighed. “It’s really not.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The daaaate~~~

“Is… is that a banana in your pocket?”

Luvander, absentminded as he dug through his bookbag for one specific paper amidst a forest of highlighted, sticky-noted printouts and handwritten notes, didn’t bother to look up. “No, darling, I’m just happy to see you.” The words were automatic, his attention fully riveted by the history of feminine espionage instead of the rapidly filling classroom around him.

“Oh, Good.” Sudden recognition that his conversational partner was not, in fact, Raphael made Luvander’s head snap up, his eyes almost comically wide. Niall was crouched next to Luvander’s desk, smirking. “See, I was worried that after Friday night you might avoid me for a while, and I’d be all kinds of lonely today.”

The casual maelstrom in Luvander’s head came to a screeching halt. His mouth worked for half a second, but the only sound that emerged was a sort of squeak. The horrible part, of course, was that Luvander _realized_ he was short-circuiting, and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it or to stop Niall’s stupid breathtaking face from looking even more amused. Fortunately, he recovered fast enough to start making words again. Unfortunately, the words that came out completely bypassed his brain-to-mouth filter. “It is. It’s a banana.” Oh dear god why was this happening to him. “It’s my lunch. I mean.” WHY WHY WHY. Niall was raising his eyebrows slowly, and even worse, behind him, Jeannot was making the same unimpressed face as Niall- eyebrows raised, vague pity in his features for Luvander’s terminal case of foot in mouth syndrome. “Ohgod.”

Niall broke first, his chuckle barely more than an exhale, but he reached over and took Luvander’s hand, keeping an intense kind of eye contact. “Text me tonight,” he said quietly, thumb brushing over Luvander’s knuckles. “I’m not free until late, but a message from you will get me through the day.” Helpless, Luvander nodded, feeling his face getting warm. Niall stood up and navigated his way through the jumbled mess of desks, butting shoulders in an unfriendly way against Raphael on his way out. Taken off guard, Raphael watched Niall go, a vaguely hurt and confused look on his face followed by a shrug at Luvander as if asking what the hell that was all about.

Luvander, however, was distracted by the handwritten scoreboard sign held up by Jeannot. “Oh, fuck off, Jeannot. I deserved at least a 4 for effort.”

“Oh honey, no,” Jeannot simpered, malicious sympathy dripping like honey from his words. “We reward results here, not efforts.” He balled up his scrawled 2.3 and tossed it at Luvander, hitting him between the eyes, much to the blonde’s annoyance.

Raphael sat down between them, dropping his bookbag with a thud on the desk and holding in the flap to keep the contents from oozing out. “What was that about?”

“Raph. He _talked_ to me,” Luvander wailed from behind clenched teeth, panic barely subsiding as the professor walked in and began to set up. “He told me to text him-“ his voice subsided entirely as the background cacophony of the class subsided into a quiet facsimile of attentiveness, only his lips kept moving. “Help?” He mouthed at Raphael, who only shook his head with a grin.

“Later,” he mouthed back.

After class, Raphael was treated to a full-on Luvandermergency, complete with theatrical death throes and actual tears. He was good enough to rub Luvander’s back and keep the laughter from showing, which was, on reflection, one of the reasons Luvander kept him around. Raphael might be flighty and easily distracted (enough so to deserve that joke last semester about avoiding Raphael’s temper by waiting five minutes), but he was a good friend where it counted.

“That reminds me,” Raphael said when he finally managed to get a word in edgewise. “Niall was on your phone Friday night.”

Luvander leaned back and reconsidered every moment of kindness he had ever blessed Raphael with. He’d stuck by Raphael’s side for months, and what did he get in return? The absolutely vile traitor, he’d kept this vital piece of information for his own greedy self.

Said traitor threw his hands up as if to ward off an attack. “He gave us a lift home on Friday! I didn’t even realize it was your phone he had until I was already asleep, and I completely forgot until just now.” His eyes were big and brown, damn him, he looked just like a puppy. “I’m telling you as soon as I remembered.”

“You should have remembered sooner,” Luvander sniffed, not so easily mollified. He tore himself away from His Friend, The Traitor and scrolled through his phone to discover what his delicious and dreamy god had done while Luvander was- well. The fact that Niall had been in his bedroom while Luvander was drunk and passed out was something best not dwelled upon. Ever.

When he finally discovered the change, it was like a hollow feeling somewhere in his gut. “He added his number.” Luvander looked up at Raphael, because even a vile traitor was better than nobody just then. Raphael was smiling, the bastard.

“He did say he wants you to text him,” Raphael reminded him. “Now you have a way to do that. And before you ask, because I know you and I already know what you’re going to say, you say something super neutral like hi, maybe thank him for taking you home on Friday. Maybe it will lead to him taking you home some more, hey?” Raphael waggled his eyebrows in a gross parody of Magoughin, and Luvander stared, horrified. It was a really, really good impression.

“I can’t just..” Luvander began.

“You can and you will,” Raphael retorted. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have Technology in History to get to. Text. Your. Guy.” These last commands were accentuated with repeated pokes to Luvander’s slightly-too-long nose. With that, he got up and left Luvander to stare at his phone with despair.

~~

Sushi that night was amazing. Raphael thought, as he played with his chopsticks, that even if neither he nor Ivory actually said a single word to each other that at least he’d remember this place as having a decent spider roll.

They’d exchanged numbers in class yesterday, with lots of blushing and some of Raphael tripping over his own feet and drawing little hearts in all of his notes for the rest of the day. He’d quoted some poetry to Compagnon over dinner- which, in retrospect, had been a rather embarrassing mistake, but at least he recognized that while scrubbing pasta out of his hair instead of laying awake at night thinking about whether he’d been irritating or not. Knowing was a comfort, sometimes.

Friday meant he just had the one morning class and then a five hour shift at the library. He’d spent an hour that morning trying different outfits for the day and trying to tame his hair, and he felt silly about it even without the peanut gallery that was Merritt and Compagnon. They’d been wearing jerseys and had the tiny little TV in the living room turned up as loud as it could go for highlights of a game Raphael might have cared about, with a few drinks in him. They even followed him out on their way to the gym, messing up his hair until it was worse than ever and laughing in his face when he protested.

Despite aggressive brotherly attention, he managed to get through class without anything horrendous happening and he’d floated through his shift at the library, replacing books with his mind a million miles away. The end of it was less floaty and more waiting for the clock to move impossibly slowly, seeming to actually go backwards until he decided to risk clocking out five minutes early. He hadn’t yet gotten down the steps when he saw Ivory leaning against one of the pillars at ground level, in black jeans and a black leather jacket and a smug smile like he knew how weak Raphael’s knees would get.

He had to pause for a minute, because honestly, Ivory was breathtaking and Raphael’s heart seemed to want to leave his chest and fly around the field or maybe just explode. He was long and lean, and those jeans were probably going to be in Raphael’s dreams for a while. The jacket didn’t help. It really, really did not help in all the best ways.

“Hey,” Ivory greeted. He didn’t move.

“Hey,” Raphael managed back, getting down the steps somehow without tripping. It was only when he got close to Ivory that the other man turned and led the way across the plaza and between buildings to one of the school’s smaller carparks. Ivory’s car turned out to be a beat-up little thing with peeling grey paint and what appeared to be a knife scar near the front fender, as if someone had tried to murder it. The inside, though, was so meticulously clean that Raphael felt grubby in comparison. He set his bookbag at his feet and tried not to take up too much room. Ivory didn’t talk as he drove, not so much as looking Raphael’s way but taking off as soon as his seatbelt clicked into place and maneuvering through traffic with only the slightest scowl for particularly obnoxious drivers.

Raphael tried breaking the ice when they parked. “This place looks pretty good,” He offered, smiling up at it and then studying Ivory’s face for a hint of humanity.

“It’s alright,” Ivory replied without inflection. Raphael had read the phrase “cool grey eyes” but this was the first time he really understood just how cold a pair of eyes could be. He had a disturbing mental image of Ivory, face splattered in blood, maintaining that lack of expression. It was the first time he realized that he was not only nervous about going on the date, but was also a little afraid of Ivory himself.

He let the hostess seat them and stared at the menu, desperate for somewhere else to look and hoping he hadn’t done anything to make Ivory angry.

They were served drinks, and their order was taken. Ivory ordered the volcano roll. Their eyes met after, but he said nothing, and Raphael could only think of completely inane things to say so kept quiet.

It was fucking miserable.

It was all Raphael could do not to breathe a sigh of relief when their food arrived, because at least the table was somewhat less awkward now. He was relieved, too, when Ivory handled his chopsticks with proper manners. They ate in a different kind of silence, getting about a third of the way into their food before Ivory exhaled a short sharp sigh.

“You aren’t going to talk to me?”

Raphael jumped, then felt guilty. He set his chopsticks down, trying to make himself small again. “Sorry… um.” He tapped the side of the table. “You, um, you play music, right?” Music was good. Music was safe. Everyone liked music. Music soothed savage beasts.

“I play the piano,” Ivory confirmed. “That’s why I’m called Ivory, actually.”

“Oh,” Raphael breathed out, surprised. “I thought- Sorry, I thought that was your name.”

Ivory finished another bite, in no hurry to answer. “It may as well be now. I won’t answer to anything else.” A moment passed while Raphael tried to think of a reply to that which would make him sound smart. Or, at least, not completely inane.

Ivory beat him to it. “What kind of music to you like?”

“I’ve been really into this Ramanthine punk band, Melinoe, lately,” Raphael admitted, tucking some hair behind his ear and smiling nervously. “They’re all, you know, guttural singing and wailing violins. God, that sounds horrible-”

“I love Melinoe,” Ivory blurted out, chopsticks coming to rest on the table. “I wouldn’t really describe their violins as wailing, except in Persephone’s Lament. They’ve gotten better since they picked up that sitar player.”

All of a sudden, the pieces sort of clicked into place. Raphael grinned in sheer goofy relief as they started talking quickly, sentences overlapping at the ends.

“Right? I mean they were amazing before, but the sitar really-” “Have you heard any Wellwater Mummies? They have a similar feel but they’re more bass guitar and harpsichord than electric and violin-” “Tuesday Street’s guitar player-” “There’s this amazing mandolin solo-”

Somehow, their sushi got demolished and Ivory had managed to take care of the bill before Raphael thought to offer his wallet. He tried anyway, biting his lip anxiously when Ivory waved him away, but then Ivory took his arm and walked him out, their conversation still flowing and overlapping in fresh excitement over each discovery. It didn’t stop as Ivory drove them home. His radio didn’t work, he explained, but Raphael didn’t care. He could have listened to Ivory talk about music- talk about anything that made him come alive like that- for hours.

They were parked what seemed like too soon, but sure enough, the school buildings loomed above them, blotting out the night sky. Raphael faltered in the middle of a story about his first live concert, but rallied when Ivory waited for him and began walking towards the dorms at a leisurely pace. As they walked, Ivory’s hand brushed his- the first time it happened, Raphael paused, his heart doing the thing where it wanted to explode again. It could have been an accident, but then it happened again, they met eyes, and Ivory purposely hooked their pinkies together. By the time they reached the end of the carpark, they were actually holding hands, and Raphael may as well have been floating.

The date had gone remarkably well, Raphael thought as Ivory took his turn in storytelling. His voiced echoed the tiniest bit as they passed between two tall buildings, empty and boxy and industrial but oddly comforting. Raphael enjoyed the aesthetics of college, he enjoyed the old brick buildings and the carefully maintained lawn. Even late on a Tuesday night, they weren’t the only students walking; the library actually stayed open until midnight on weeknights. God, college life was amazing.

They meandered around the courtyard and through buildings towards the tall hill that housed Charlotte. At the base of said hill was the path that would lead to Miranda and Molly, the other two dormitories, and Raphael wondered if it would be creepy to walk Ivory home. As they slowed to a stop, Ivory fell into silence, looking away with a sudden awkwardness.

“Um. This is me,” Raphael shrugged, his free hand sneaking up to tuck his unruly hair behind his ear.

“I know,” Ivory said softly, looking back at him with solemn grey eyes. “You can kiss me, if you want.” He looked guarded, defensive; his hand had gone limp and unresisting in Raphael’s own.

Something in Raphael twisted in gingery hurt. “Only if you want me to.”

“It’s a date, isn’t it?” Ivory looked away again. “That’s what you do in a date. You kiss at the end.”

Either Ivory was being obvious or Raphael was particularly attuned to him, but Ivory looked ready to disassociate. He wanted to kiss Ivory, he wanted that so much, but not while Ivory was only tolerating it. Raphael took Ivory’s hand in both of his own. “Do you want this to be a date?”

It brought Ivory’s eyes to his own again, still defensive, and these may have been dangerous waters but Raphael thought maybe he knew how to navigate them. “Yeah,” Ivory admitted. “I do.”

“Me too.” Raphael pulled Ivory’s hand up and brushed his lips against the knuckles. “And it’ll be one whether we kiss or not.”

Ivory stared at him for a moment, then stepped in closer, guiding Raphael’s hand out of the way with his own. “Cool. Now, are you going to kiss me, or what?”

The touch of their lips together was tentative, a hesitant exploration that Raphael was firmly determined not to lose himself in. He rather liked kissing, even when it wasn’t very good, because it was intimate and thrilling and made his limbs pleasantly weak. When he was kissing, he could forget how much he loathed his own imperfect body. Usually when he kissed, though, it was a stepping stone to a much more intense workout- and that simply wasn’t the case tonight. Ivory, surprisingly, was a very awkward kisser, smooshing his nose against Raphael’s and moving his head in a nervously tense way. It was nice, for once, to be the smooth one. Raphael left one more small kiss on Ivory’s lips as they parted, and the warm smile on his tingling lips was entirely heartfelt.

“Thank you,” He murmured, keeping the tips of their noses touching for just a moment. “For tonight,” He clarified, because Ivory’s eyebrows were pulling together in the middle in concern or curiosity. “Dinner was really good and, um. Maybe if you want there to be a next time, we can listen to some music together.”

“I’d like that,” Ivory agreed, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Do you want there to be a next time?”

There had to be something, some magic power Ivory had, that made Raphael feel like the floor was falling away any time Ivory said something sweet. “Is it too pathetic to say please?” He paused, thinking that was a horribly awkward thing to say and pushing himself to word vomit just a bit more because apparently he really liked the taste of his own foot. “I mean. Shit,” He laughed. “I like you a lot, ok? I have for a while, That’s why I’m so, you know, derpy anytime I see you, because I’m trying so hard not to look like a complete ass but it’s hopeless, really, because I’m a complete dis-” Ivory’s hand settled over his mouth, stifling his mindless monologue. Thankfully he looked amused instead of disgusted.

“I like you too.” Ivory moved closer again, but kept his hand where it was. “Next time we’ll listen to music. It’s a date.”

Raphael smiled under Ivory’s hand, enjoying the tiny flutter of while lashes he caused. Ivory stepped away, wished him goodnight, and took off down the road leading away from the Charlotte dorms. Raphael floated back to his own room, not staying outside to see if he took the meandering path into Molly or the better-lit direct route to Miranda.

**Author's Note:**

> This is unfinished so far, but I have at least a few more chapters written and a lot more ideas sketched out so... enjoy


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